The Sickness is Rising
by infireandice
Summary: Professor Crane disrupts Adelaide Moore's average life by murdering her family and making her a victim of his concentrated fear toxin. Eight years later, twenty-six years old and mentally unbalanced, Adelaide breaks out of Arkham Asylum and wants to take her revenge on the man who caused her misery and the city that let it happen. [Jonathon Crane / OC] TDKR.
1. Chapter 1

**Trigger Warning: Scenes of drug use, extreme violence, torture and other mature content.**

She looked at the woman before her with repulsion. She had always been vain about her appearance and it disgusted her that she had to accept the woman before her as herself now. What once was round and soft was now gaunt and hardened. Her tan skin felt layered with grime and mould, her blue eyes looked vacant and dusty.

The girl she once was no longer existed. Her entirety had worsened, not just her appearance. How old are you now? Ada asked the woman, the familiarities sinking back to her as her eyes took in the dark mole on her collarbone. She could remember her doctor wishing her a happy 21st birthday. How long ago was that? She did not look 21 any more.

Her cracked fingernails combed at a choppy dark lock. Well, at least your hair is finally the length you wanted, whispered a reminder of her former self.

She had let the shower run hot for too long and it had started to mist the mirror. She would enjoy being able to shower without a guard watching over her, even if it took a little time for her to adjust to the strange loneliness. Ada turned away from the fogged doppelgänger haunting the mirror and stepped under the hot rain. Her body sighed at the sudden contact. She forgot that showers could be comforting. The water felt like warm caresses compared to the pelting pressure of the Arkham showers. And there were no time restraints on how long she could be in one place. She could stay under that shower forever if she wanted. She cricked her neck and moaned and let her broken mind drift off in the foreign bliss.

8 years, her thoughts offered. Was it 8 years in all? She squeezed the shower gel onto her hand, briefly noticing the male brand, and vigorously got to work on washing away the previous 8 years.

Her mind wandered back to earlier events, a haze of chaos and madness. The impatience was tangible. She wanted out but everyone around her wanted destruction. Bangs rang out as doctors, guards and patients were shot. Arkham had fallen and Gotham's insane were released. The Joker had twirled her around in manic glee as she passed him. "This city is breaking," He told her with a lap of his lips. "It's beautiful," he said darkly. She had stayed with him for the duration of the riot, following him as he delighted in kicking those who were down and wishing the walls farewell, and waited as he met up with his cronies. "Dollface," he said to her, "you're part of the gang now. I'm taking your pretty little brains with me. Keep close."

She wasn't quite sure the order of the following events but she was in the back of a van; staring at the sky; being given a tightly wrapped burger; crushing a man's fingers beneath her feet; and following a hallway to a bathroom.

Ada snapped off the flow of water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping her red skin in one of the towels and her hair in another. Before Arkham she had always needed a separate towel for her hair because it was so thick it acted like a mop. Without assistance, her hair would take the whole day to dry by itself. She dried her body and examined the clean clothes left out for her. Unsurprisingly they were men's and were way too big for her. She pulled the t-shirt over her towel-wrapped head and easily shimmied into the khaki slacks. She didn't feel picky about the ensemble but she wished she had nice underwear instead of the dirty beige bra and large white boxer shorts from the asylum. When she had the chance she would burn them, along with the orange jumpsuit with 'Moore. #1786' branded on it. The khaki's fell down slightly as she bent to pull on the pair of thick socks and she irritably noted that she needed a belt.

_You should be lucky that you're finally out of there,_ she thought. _You're not the same girl who stupidly worries about what she's wearing_. Ada pulled her snug-fitting combat boots on and fiercely tightened her laces until the action reminded her of garrotting.

Tightening the towel around her hair she unlocked the door and left the steam filled room to find no-one waiting for her. Padding around the run-down house she heard a few voices coming from what she found to be the kitchen. The whole house had a cabbage-like mildew smell clinging to the walls, but this room was filled with the smell of smoke and cannabis. To the right of a worn looking fridge was an awning window with the glass pushed up. A man was sat on a platform outside the window. He looked to Ada as she walked in and gestured to her.

"Dollface, right?" he asked. Ada lifted a brow but nodded all the same. She never minded people giving her nicknames before and she cared even less about it now. Once your entire person is defined by a number you care less about trivialities such as names. "I'm Patch," he said, and motioned for her to sit beside him on the roof. She climbed out and silently did as she was told. Patch inhaled deeply and passed her the joint. His voice was changed slightly as he kept from breathing the smoke out, he said, "Want some?" Ada wordlessly took it from him and dragged. The end of the spliff crackled quietly as she inhaled, burning the paper and the contents inside. Her throat filled with the smoke and she choked. She coughed and automatically passed the joint back to Patch who chuckled at the attempt. "Non-smoker I see."

"She aint much of a talker, neither," said the other man on the roof with Patch. This man took the joint from the latter and inhaled leisurely before saying, "Girl hardly said a thing on the way here." Ada recognised him as being one of Joker's men who assisted them in their jailbreak. This man had carried an impressive submachine gun, reminding her of a SWAT team. He hadn't introduced himself back then and if he never did, Ada would call him SWAT.

"That so?" hummed Patch with a lazy grin. "I always did prefer the quiet types," he jested with a wink, causing SWAT to bark a quick laugh.

"Girl looks like one of my African women with that towel around her head," he remarked back.

Ada breathed in deeply through her nose, wondering why this man refused to talk like she was, in fact, right next to him. He could clearly see her there. Instead of showing any acknowledgement to the men, Ada looked out at the darkening city and realised that they were somewhere in the Narrows. It had been so long since she had seen anything of the city she lived in that wasn't padded rooms or dank hallways. She pulled her legs to her chest and laid her chin atop her knees. Freedom felt strange.

Patch studied her with obvious interest. "Why so quiet then, dollface?" he asked.

_Why so serious, dollface? _asked a man with wild eyes as he peered into her dark cell.

Suddenly the evening air breathed through her and she shivered. She retracted her arms into the sleeves of her t-shirt so that her cold skin could find some warmth. Her arms hugged her slim body and reminded her of her yellowed Arkham straight jacket. She must have looked pathetic. After a short silence had passed, SWAT dismissed her, "Pff, she aint gonna answer us. Brother, just leave the loon alone. Girl is probably crazier than-"

On impulse Ada's hand shot out of her t-shirt and grabbed the handgun at Patch's side. The bullet rang out instantaneously as it drilled through SWAT's right eye. Patch's panicked cry forced her to turn the gun on him in case he tried anything and the man stilled under gunpoint. He held up his hands, stringing shaky pleas together for Ada to lower his weapon.

Ada flicked her hard blue eyes to the slumped body of SWAT to see that he had dropped the joint to the floor in his bloodied mess. With the gun still pointed at Patch, she crouched over and retrieved it. She placed it between her lips and inhaled the strange tasting drug. After holding in the smoke for a few seconds she breathed out, successfully this time, and lowered the gun. She passed Patch the joint and lowly warned, "Don't call me crazy."

Patch hurriedly took the joint from her and with wide eyes stammered, "Y-yeah! Of course not!" He shakily brought it to his lips and inhaled. He was too stunned to do anything much other than stare at the girl disconcerted. He had clearly underestimated the girl, forgetting that there was obviously a reason his boss had brought her with him. His boss. He remembered The Joker saying eerily the exact same thing before, _Don't. Call. Me. Crazy, _though it sounded much nicer coming from this girl.

Patch thought that if he hadn't just witnessed her murdering his comrade that he would pity her, looking at her as she was now. She looked way too tiny and meek to be caught up in Bane's Gotham, or in The Joker's hideout. Still, it was emasculating how powerless she had rendered him in a mere second.

Without knowing what to really do, he continued to sit with her and get high next to the corpse of his friend.

* * *

She'd spent her time imagining what she would do if she left the asylum, where she would go. She would leave Gotham and explore the world until she found somewhere quiet. The idea of living alone in a wigwam in the middle of a forest - _maybe with Callie _\- seemed idyllic. It still took her a minute for the jarring image of Callie's slumped body to breakthrough her daydreaming and remind her that her dog was in fact dead. There would be no living with Callie. There would be no leaving Gotham. As often as the thought of an ideal life came to her, so did the realisation that she might not ever leave the asylum. She was psychotic. A criminal. A murderer. She was in _Arkham_. The only reason you would be sent to Arkham was so that you stayed in Arkham. You could only get out if you escaped, and that required help.

Ada had kept hold of Patch's gun. It didn't have much ammo left but it made her feel less pathetic. She felt lost and shambolic now that she was free.

She felt like she was waiting for something that wasn't going to happen.

_What do you have left?_ the voice whispered. Nothing, was the answer. _Nothing to lose._

Ada stared at the busted television as it re-ran propaganda news and informed her of all that she had missed. Essentially, Gotham was to be destroyed and everyone in the city had become hostages unable to leave. Ada wondered what her part would be in all of this. No-one cared what she did and it wasn't like she could do anything anyway. If you're not trapped in the asylum, you're trapped in the city, she thought.

Her hair was still wet and it soaked through her t-shirt, the towel disregarded on the floor beside her. She had left the shell-shocked boy on the roof and further explored the shabby house, finding the television in a tiny recreational room. Not to be misleading, the only thing that made it 'recreational' was the television, a dart board and littered beer bottles over every surface. With Gotham in such apparent chaos she was surprised that people had even bothered replaying the news. It seemed as if the headlines and reports were specifically for her. The thought made her paranoid that she should be doing something in that case.

It was then that she heard people entering the house and she wondered if she should seek them out or not. She had yet to move from her seat when The Joker burst into the room. "Dollface, there's a revolution and we're headlining acts. Hurry up!" He threw her a heavy-looking jacket and yet another handgun.

Excitement bubbled up in her at the chance to take the city for herself. She tugged on the jacket and adjusted both handguns in her clothing. The Joker giggled at her as she did so and purred, "How'd you get that then, deary?" He gestured to Patch's stolen handgun. Ada shrugged, impatient to leave and help destroy the city that offered so little to her. _Maybe when there _is _no Gotham, I can _leave _Gotham._

Studying her, The Joker caught the mad twinkle in her eye as she outwardly shrugged and could sense her madness rising. Though she seemed silent and composed, The Joker could see the power building in her as she readied herself and hurried out of the room before him. He chuckled and swept out of the room as well.

* * *

They had driven to a wealthy neighbourhood with intent to loot and kidnap. All in all there were 6 of them, each of them wearing a clown mask except for herself and The Joker, who of course had fixed himself into his familiar make-up and attire. On the way, one of the henchmen asked Patch (she knew it was him from his voice) where Marlon was. By the way Patch's head twitched her way she knew that Marlon was undoubtedly SWAT, who she had killed irrationally. "He's dead," Patch said carefully. He sounded unsure if he was allowed to say those words. Ada felt sickly pleased to be intimidating.

The Joker had noticed the exchange and had given Ada a wide yellow-toothed smile. "One in, one out. Ay, boys?" he cackled.

The next events were out of order for Ada. One moment she was smashing pretty china into the flowered wallpaper, and the next moment she was shoving a middle-aged woman into an elevator. One of the masked henchman followed her into the elevator with a middle-aged man. Ada's processing skills returned and she was able to think freely. She noticed that the captured couple were both bound and that they were finely dressed in nightwear, as if they were asleep when she and the men had broken in. Ada was holding the handgun she had stolen from Patch and could tell that she had yet to use it.

Another clown entered the elevator holding a refuse sack. Then she remembered shoving open drawers and greedily scavenging for clothes and underwear. The styles weren't all that great but they'd fit her better than the clothes she was wearing.

In her reverie she had just stood and watched around her, waiting for the next thing. It meant that the clown next to her had to awkwardly lean across her to press the 'down' button. The doors closed and she realised that it was Patch. She wondered what he'd do if she stared at him long enough.

The doors opened and Ada kicked the screaming woman out. She waited for any clue as to what she was supposed to do with her captive but was at a loss.

She turned to Patch and asked, "What now?"

He jumped as if the sound of her voice alarmed him. "Wh-what?" he stammered. Ada made a 'tch' sound as she searched around them but made no further conversation.

The henchman with the refuse sack was luckily more co-operative. Just about. "In the van," he grunted and half-jogged to the van doors, opening them.

"No! Please, no!" the woman shrieked and struggled against Ada. It was irritating because Ada wasn't the strongest of people so instead she yanked back on the woman's untangled, enviable hair and cocked her gun against her temple. The woman sobbed miserably.

"We'll do anything you want!" The man cried, spurred on by her actions. He'd been accommodating for the whole thing. _And he'd better stay that way, _said a dark voice.

"Do what we want and you'll be doing what we want! It's fucking simple, really," spat Ada. She shoved the woman into the back of the van and the male captive followed suit. The co-operative non-Patch clown slammed the doors behind them and entered the driver's side.

Ada wondered whether to climb in the passenger side or not when another van pulled up alongside them. The back opened up and The Joker called out, "Next stop!"

Her and Patch climbed into the second van and readied themselves for whatever next. The Joker wasn't one for explaining his actions, Ada decided. The whole night seemed unplanned and yet thought out. It was strange not knowing what she was supposed to do and yet being able to do it. She felt exhilarated, her body moving of its own delirious adrenaline.

The voice in her mind acknowledged that the her from 8 years ago wouldn't be able to comprehend the feeling. Sheltered thing that she was.

Boring. Pathetic.

Now look at you, she thought.

The Joker looked at her in sick ecstasy. She realised that she was having fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Trigger Warning: Possible scenes of drug use, extreme violence, suggested rape. **

[8 Years Ago]

Ada's mother suffered from locked-in syndrome. The fact made it so that Ada's eighteen year old life was not the same as many others'.

Ada silently resented her mother, as selfish as she knew it was. Eleanor Moore was unable to move or speak and so Ada considered her to be there as much as the bedside lamp or coffee table. A sick part of her mind wished that her mother had died in the car crash, so that she could move on without having to acknowledge the ghost sat beside her as a living, suffering being.

Ada's father was a well-paid lecturer at Gotham University, majoring in the psychology of fear, and so David Moore was able to hire a nurse for his wife's condition. If it wasn't for the nurse taking care of her mother, Ada would have simply ignored the woman and allowed her to die of neglect. At the very least, Ada might have been able to decide what to watch on the television. Instead, the nurse would chastise the girl for disrupting 'her mother's' programmes.

Besides that, Ada was a fairly normal girl. She loved cereal, cartoons, singing badly to her favourite bands, and she wanted to be a writer. She had a strict father like most girls in her class and her grades were excellent. She had friends, though she rarely saw them outside of school hours, and boys liked her.

It was an overcast October day when this normalcy in Ada's life drastically changed. Ada was sat in her room, listening to music and worrying that she looked stupid in her online profile photo, when her dad knocked on her door.

"Yeah?" She'd called out absent-mindedly.

Her dad wasn't a tall man, though women still found him attractive. Ada couldn't see why, though. His hair had turned grey really early and his beard aged him even more. "Adelaide," he started, always using her full name, "A colleague of mine is coming around shortly. A past student, really. If you could stay in your room and not distract us for an hour that would be great."

Ada sighed, "Yeah, whatever. Sounds dull anyway..." Her dad opened his mouth with a frown but was stopped short of saying anything by the doorbell. He turned to leave but gave his daughter one last look, saying, "Do your homework," before he closed her door and padded downstairs.

It was only ten minutes later that Ada jumped at the sound of a loud pop from downstairs. She wasn't sure what the sound was but it made her heart race and had her glued in her seat. For a while she wondered if she should go downstairs and ask her dad what had happened but even then it took her over a minute to actually work her feet. Pressing out of her room, Ada noted the silence that rang out through the halls. It felt somehow wrong to disturb the ominous silence. Ada cautiously leaned over the banister and called for her dad. After a moment she tried again, "Dad? ...What was that sound?" Still nothing.

Ada felt the panic ebbing through her stomach. Curiously, she palmed the banister to the bottom of the staircase but froze mid-step as she spotted something furry lying in a bloodied lump. "...C-Callie?!" she cried, her voice high. Wide eyes searched the hallway but found no-one. Tentatively, Ada made her way towards the dead creature and identified the lump as her family dog, Callie. The tears had welled in her eyes before the gasp had left her mouth. Ada squealed in fright and her body instantly flew into action. She ran across the floor to where the cordless phone was usually docked, only to find it gone. "Oh, my God," she whimpered, her body reeling in the fact that something was terribly wrong.

"Dad?!" she called out again, trying to find him. Her body tingled in fright as she moved towards her dad's study only to have the way blocked by a lean man pointing a gun at her. She froze. Her teary eyes widened and her breathing had hitched. All she wanted to do was call for her dad but the weapon had her locked in place.

Ada hated how helpless she felt. She was frozen in fear. She felt like her mother, motionless, powerless. It terrified her that she couldn't do anything but stare at the man in cowardice. Her mouth opened but no speech came out. Uncontrollably, her eyes drank in his appearance. Though he looked years older than her, she found the man somewhat attractive. More than that, she was struck by the normalcy of his voice.

He cocked his head to the side and inhaled deeply before asking, "So, who are you? The daughter?"

His eyes, so blue and calculating, swept across her form. As they snagged on the revealed skin at her hips and neck, her mind alerted her that she was very vulnerable and that this man might be here to rape her. Tugging her clothes about her she tried to disappear in them.

"Wh-who are you?" she challenged meekly.

The man lifted a brow and smirked. His voice cracking slightly he said, "I am a doctor, here to test out my new medicine." Blue eyes flashed dangerously.

Ada tried to swallow but found it impossible. She cast her eyes around the man but didn't see a doctor's bag or a single sign of his 'medicinal' practice. Rather than call him a liar, her stomach still bubbling anxiously, Ada offered, "For my mother?"

The question surprised him, Ada could tell, as his eyes narrowed in veiled confusion. This man was playing a game with her, made obvious when his lips twitched and he replied, "Yes." It didn't comfort Ada that she could tell he was lying. It didn't give her a one-up and it only made her more afraid.

But talking seemed to distract her from the gun still aimed at her, and if she got out of this she could give all of this information to the police. So she asked, "Where's my father?" but meeting the man's eyes Ada wondered if she really wanted to know.

The man smirked, "I'll take you to him."

* * *

[Present]

They had filed out of the van, caused the same kind of chaos and then left with three hostages. The driver-clown greeted them as they re-entered the van with the captive family. "Where to, Boss?" he asked as Ada clambered into the seat next to him up front.

"City Hall," ordered The Joker from the back, where he terrorised the hostages with his hunting knife and stories of his scars. He aimed his gruesome smile at them and said, "We have a delivery to make."

Ada had been to City Hall once before for a student led protest. Ironically she and her friends had protested against gun crime and violence in Gotham. Now she returned gun in hand.

A man in a red scarf had stopped their van on approach to the building. He pointed a rifle at the windscreen and ordered the clown-masked driver to get out of the van. Ada readied the gun she carried in case something went wrong, still unaware of The Joker's plan. Soon enough, the clown came back to the van, mercenary following behind, and opened the back doors.

The mercenary's gaze froze on The Joker momentarily before he motioned to the hostages grunting, "Bring them inside."

Ada sat, turned in her seat, watching as the hostages were ushered out of the van, followed by Patch, and then followed by The Joker. "Coming, dollface?" he asked, somewhere between a sneer and a smile. Ada turned and unlatched the van door, climbing out obediently. Her eyes flicked to Patch, who seemed just as unsure as she was as to what was going on, though he was still wearing a clown mask so it was hard to actually tell. Ada liked Patch, she suddenly decided in that moment.

Joining the others in following the mercenary, Ada one-handedly fiddled with pulling her loose slacks up. The other hand was ready on her lowered gun. She didn't trust these people. Her eyes studied the red-scarved men and wondered why The Joker hadn't made this the simple drop-off delivery like it had sounded. There were enough men to muscle in three temperate hostages. They were more restrained than the previous couple had been, and even they had been mild. Ada's watchful eyes took in the family they were shepherding. It looked as if the mother-figure was shushing the crying daughter, hands held tightly together, and that the father-figure was bravely playing the part of the perfect captive. In other words, they were easy to manoeuvre.

Ada's suspicious mind had caused her to slow slightly behind. Did it really require the five of them to control these people?

She didn't stop the thought from coming - _It only took one man to control your dad and you. _Ada grimaced.

They entered the heavily guarded building to find more mercs inside. The mercenary leading them nodded to someone as they passed by and soon they had entered a cavernous room filled with dirtied civilians hugging the floor. Gruffly, the mercenary forced the family to the ground and said, "You will wait here until your trial."

Ada looked around the room at the barbed wire fences and trash cans filled with fire and understood that all of the people on the ground were prisoners awaiting punishment. For a moment Ada was surprised that legal procedures such as trials were even undergone any more. It didn't seem fitting amidst the chaos of Gotham. Ada couldn't help but hate the people around her for being allowed a trial. _No-one gave you such a chance._

Then Ada noticed just how much attention the group of them had attracted. Almost all eyes were fearfully glued to The Joker. He'd pulled a knife out of his pocket and was twirling it, clicking his tongue. "You people are so easy to control," he muttered. "Just a couple of guns and you become mice."

She turned away from him then, wondering if she could just leave and return to the van. Sure, it felt better to no longer be on the prisoner side of things, but the power dynamics were fucking her up a little. They'd kidnapped five people that night and thrown them into a prison camp. If things hadn't turned out the way they had for Ada, she probably would have been in their place. She caught eyes with a frightened woman and saw herself in her place. _Why are you even here? _she asked herself. Ada's insane adrenaline had all but diminished now.

"Boss!" Grunted a familiar voice. Ada turned and saw the clown who drove the first van coming their way. Two scarf-garbed mercenaries flanked behind him. "You can go and see him now," he said.

Ada frowned._ See who? _She didn't like the way the goon had glanced her way.

The Joker giggled from behind her and playfully grabbed her shoulders, pulling her into him. He smelled musky, like old clothes. He hummed in her ear, "Ready to go, Dollface?"

She didn't answer but allowed herself to be pushed along. She wondered if they were going to see Bane. Did the hostages they delivered act like a resume? An initiation into the league of chaos?

She could hear deranged shouting coming from the room even before they entered. Hoards of people lined the walls, hooting and hollering in disorder. Their attention was focused on the centre of the room where a man sat in a chair, held down by a merc. It took a while for Ada to distinguish the chanting in the room but she was able to separate one voice enough to hear the word "Death!" She heard the tell-tale sound of a gavel being knocked and realised that this must be where the trials were held.

Ada eyed the back of the room seeing an unstable assemblage of furniture, papers and _junk_ with a table perched atop it. It was hard to see the man at the desk but she narrowed her eyes unable to stop focusing on him. The gavel banged four more times before the man spoke. "What'll it be, Mister Dyer, death or exile? We really haven't got all day. So, if you please speak up." There was nothing special about the man's voice other than the way it cracked slightly. Still, it made Ada's eyes widen and her breath hitch.

"Ah, looks like Scarecrow's enjoying his new job," came The Joker's shrill voice. Ada had never found his voice irritating before but the derisiveness made her growl. He smiled and raised his eyebrows at her in mock surprise and she glared back.

The gavel produced two more resounding bangs and Ada's eyes instinctively drew back to the dishevelled man at his desk. "Death it is," the man said and threw a crumpled ball of paper behind him. The action distracted Ada and she jumped out of her skin when a loud gunshot suddenly rang out. Startled, she watched as the body of the defendant slumped to the floor. Cheers erupted from the room as the body was then unceremoniously dragged away. Over the chaos, the 'judge' neatened a stack of papers and completely ignored the preceding. Finding control of herself once again, Ada felt acid repulsion bubbling in her stomach. Slipping away from The Joker's side, Ada stepped forward to the centre of the room.

Mustering all of her hatred into one word, she seethed, "Crane!"

Her voice rang out above the commotion and the small figure atop the mountain of junk finally noticed her. Rather, he noticed the gun pointing his way.

Teeth ground together, Ada unhesitatingly pulled the trigger.

* * *

[8 years ago]

Tears immediately pricked her eyes when they landed on her father, tied up and leaning against the wall of his study. He snapped his head to her as she entered, followed by the lean man. She immediately made a run for him but was sharply pulled back as the man painfully grabbed her arm, causing Ada to hiss.

"Adelaide!" her dad cried, looking both relieved and afraid.

The man addressed her father mockingly, "Now, now, Professor Moore... You really should have told me you had a daughter." Ada was harshly tugged around to meet the man's shocking blue eyes once more. "Adelaide, was it?" he smirked.

"Crane, leave her alone!" cried her father.

The man's wolfish features fell and his eyes snapped dangerously to her father. All sounds of mirth were gone as he said, "_Doctor _Crane, Professor. I cannot tolerate rudeness." Then he shoved Ada forwards, re-aiming the gun at her, and barked, "Lie on the floor face down, girl."

A small sound involuntarily escaped Ada as she stumbled forward and compliantly crawled to the floor. She couldn't stop the fleeting thought that what the man was doing counted as rudeness. She lay with her face turned sideways so that her eyes could watch her dad. From the corner of her eye she could see 'Crane' moving towards her with a cable pulled out from her dad's computer. She wondered if this man had anticipated her father being alone since he was tied with rope, and now the man looked to be improvising.

She felt Crane's weight on her legs as he knelt on her, pulling her arms behind her back, and then tightly bound them together. As he did so he chuckled darkly, Ada's eyes involuntarily searching for the man's, and he said, "Good. You're facing the right way."

Cryptically, Crane rose and moved to the desk to where a silver briefcase sat. Ada's watery eyes overspilled as she wondered what was inside the case. She forced her eyes onto her father instead, seeking his comfort, and a sob escaped her lips as she noticed how afraid he looked as well. Nevertheless, he cooed, "It's going to be alright, Adelaide. He's here for me, not you, honey. Got that?"

Ada sniffled. Then she nodded. Selfishly, his words had made her feel better. That was until the other man said, "Actually, I'm here for both of you." He grinned, "Little Adelaide is quite the hidden bonus." The man had moved back to them and was holding something in his hand. "Now, Professor. If you please, can you tell me what are your _fears_?"

David Moore barked, "Is that what this is about, Crane?!" And Ada's eyes widened. There were two somethings in the man's hand. A sack and a syringe.

Crane's lips stretched as his grin widened. If Ada hadn't become completely petrified, and if the man's eyes weren't so crazed, she might have found it attractive. However, thoughts of being suffocated by the man with the sack, and being drugged and raped by the man with the sack, and being murdered and raped and suffocated and drugged and tormented by the man with the sack, were clouding her thoughts.

"We're both men of science, Professor," smiled Crane as he once again walked out of Ada's line of sight. "You know how important it is to have extensive research. The work we both did has made way for my new... medicine, if you will-"

"The work that WE did?!" Moore scoffed.

A bitter chill ran through Adelaide as the intruder's next words were slow and deep. Not only that, a terrifying burlap sack now covered his head. His words croaked out beneath a poorly sewn grimace, "- And my medicine needs to be tested."


	3. Chapter 3

She'd always been a terrible shot. The teddy bears hanging like stuffed corpses at carnivals were always out of her grasp. Anything that was skill-related was a struggle for her. The 'hook-a-duck' game; the 'shoot-some-hoops' game; especially the game where you hit cans using a rifle. So it was no surprise really that Ada's bullet had pierced through the top of Crane's shoulder and not its desired target.

Ada had shot Crane and he had staggered back, behind his desk, angry screams erupting all around her. In the same instant, four mercenaries had started for her. Reeling in her disheartening failure, Ada had almost completely missed the following peril that occurred.

Guns were aimed at her by angry gun-toting mercs. This was the first thing she comprehended, albeit slowly. The next thing she understood was that she hadn't been shot yet. Although Ada hadn't thought through her plan - there had been no plan - she vaguely understood that her compulsive action would have her killed, whether she managed to kill Crane or not. And yet ... there she stood: threatened, dumbfounded, and still angry. _Why haven't they just shot you?_

The third thing she noticed was that the Joker circled her protectively, humming and tugging at something threaded to the inside his coat. He had said something. "Let's not blow this out of proportion."

He moved backwards toward her and reached out to take the gun from her. She almost laughed when she processed the joke. It was a bomb. Ada quickly saw a secret smile sent her way before he lifted her gun in the air with his free hand and waved it around. "Look! No more gun."

"YOU BITCH! YOU SHOT ME!" Cried Crane as he pushed himself around his desk with his good arm, his other limply cradling itself around his torso.

The Joker tutted and gestured his way with the uplifted gun. "And there! The judge is all right! No harm done. Now if you'd all, uh, kindly excuse us..."

"NO ONE GOES ANYWHERE. I HAVE... THE POWER... IN MY COURT!" As he spoke Crane clumsily slid down the mountain of crap, books sliding out from underneath him nearly making him topple forward. He looked ridiculous with his dishevelled hair and torn coat, not to mention the now profusely bleeding and useless arm. He looked horrid compared to the handsome, professional 'doctor' of the past.

"Now," started the Joker, keeping his tone charmingly light. "I don't think you do. See..." He tugged the thread for good measure, letting it quietly jingle. "If I tug on this here thread, I take away your power. Your court. Your life. And, uh, I'm not one to joke," he said with a shit-eating grin.

Crane barked a harsh laugh. "Not one to joke?" He flashed his eyes to the ceiling as he chuckled mockingly, "That's good. What's also good is you coming into my court and thinking you can get away with your usual chaos bullshit. No. Uh uh. Denied!" He sang out, manically pretending to bang a gavel. "You think you and that bitch can just get away with coming in here?" Ada's anger was quickly rebuilding. She thumbed the second gun hidden on her.

The joker pretended to think it over then dead-panned, "Uh, yeah actually."

Ada remembered the terrified faces of the people just outside the door, huddled around lit trash cans all waiting to see Crane. Crane had the power over all of their lives. _Crane was judge? _This was all too sickening for Ada to comprehend. What had Gotham turned into? When did madmen become kings?

_You'd be sane if it wasn't for Crane._

Forgetting what side of this fight she was on, a crazy thought crossed her mind. If she killed Crane, killed the Joker, killed Bane... killed all the crazies, then everything would go back to normal. Her hand rested ready atop her pocketed handgun. She squeezed it tighter as she watched Crane advance further toward them.

She didn't know what would happen if she revealed her second gun to the court, though. Unsure, her eyes strayed to the mercs lining the walls. Ada assumed that the Joker's bomb stunt had scared the freelance soldiers but she now noticed that they looked ready to shoot, as if merely awaiting the say so. Would they follow a command from Crane?

She'd sworn to herself that given the chance she'd end him. It was her favourite daydream - her standing over a sobbing Crane, his inaudible words muffled by the gun in his mouth, and she'd recite a cheesy albeit well-rehearsed parting line about how he was getting a taste of his own medicine.

Adelaide frowned and looked back to the Joker. _He's got this, right?_

* * *

[Eight Years Ago]

Ada was horrified. She couldn't tear her wide eyes away from her father as he screamed madly and flailed against the wall.

She had screamed and begged for the man in the sack mask to "Make it stop!" when he had first injected her dad with whatever the hell he had injected him with, but he ignored her cries and instead forced her to watch. Crane wheeled out an office chair and sat himself comfortably for the performance, taking notes.

First the subject, David Moore, had lost all seeming recognition of his surroundings and became insensibly terrified. Then the usual routine of screaming and crying occurred when the subject's fears manifested and layered over the subject's reality. It was difficult to distinguish what David Moore's fears were from his writhing and crying out but Crane wanted to attribute his state as something between entomophobia and thinking that his skin was melting off. The way his body jerked and he tried to tear out of his own body made Jonathon wonder if the man thought he was being swarmed by billions of inescapable flesh-eating insects.

David Moore's dosage was a higher concentration than the 'correct' dose that Crane had carefully calculated in his lab. Morbidly, he wanted to see what would happen to the mind if given too much.

Crane sighed heavily. After a while of Moore's screaming, he had nearly forgotten the petrified little beauty obediently glued to the floor. At the slight sound of Crane's chair shifting the girl's body jolted as if she had been shocked. Ada had in no way forgotten that Crane was beside her, but he had been still for such a long time, making notes, that when he moved a new stab of icy fear had her physically recoiling from him like the snap-back of a tape-measure.

Blinking back hot tears, Ada's glassy eyes locked with the madman's otherworldly blue eyes. Even in that moment his eyes drew her in, like they had in the hallway, despite their harsh confinement beneath his horrific mask. The offensive clash between the man's worn, grubby mask and his expensive-looking navy suit also distracted her in that moment. Her mind needed something to focus on other than the continuous hell happening in that room at that moment. But instead of her mind offering something useful like a way out of it, or a plan of defence, she was noticing the blue of this demon's eyes and the niceties of his suit.

Somewhere in the back of Scarecrow's mind he wondered if he should fuck her now or when she was under the effects of his drug. He liked the pretty way she flinched as he neared her. It made him slightly impatient to see what she was like on his toxin.

The demon flipped shut his notebook and squatted by the girl. His mask nearing her, she let out a whimper. Slowly, he brandished a second needle casing.

Sounding slightly out of breath he asked, "Are you ready for your turn?" Ada could tell that he was smiling.

Petrified beyond all reason, Ada mustered her last strength into shrieking. She'd been trying to act good up till now. She had heard somewhere that if you were ever abducted that the best thing you could do was be co-operative. Sit tight until someone saved you. All of that advice felt remedial now that this masked monster was coming toward her brandishing insanity in a vial. So she shrieked and kicked and tried her best to wriggle away whilst her tormentor pressed his weight onto her and pressed the needle-point painfully into her neck.

Excitedly, Crane leaned over the girl and pressed her deep against the brown carpet. His eyes fervently looked her over, studying her every reaction to his drug. What happened to her was unlike anything he would have expected. Her cries quieted and her breathing slowed until she became calm and unresisting. His own breathing quite loud and shallow, her struggle shamefully arousing him, Crane wondered if he had accidentally given her a sedative.

She didn't scream and didn't look at him. It was as if she had frozen and Crane would have been convinced it was a sedative if it wasn't for the girl's eyes. Her eyes were wide and terrified. Her eyelids flickered as if she was struggling to move, her irises rolled unattractively. Her mouth was slack as if in a scream and her breathing was shallow. It became clear that this was all a unique reaction to the fear toxin. He was quite disappointed.

All the while, the doctor David Moore shrieked and clawed at himself. Crane clucked his tongue and sighed. He was straddling the still girl. She was no fun like this. He tugged his burlap sack over his head and ruffled his dark dishevelled hair as he eyed the girl. She gave no resistance as he slid a long finger down her cheek, then across her chest. Humming to himself, he continued to glide his touch across the girl's body, all the while watching her face for any sign of recognition. He wondered if her scared little mind would be able to process pleasure. Eyes still trained on her face, Crane lowered his mouth to the girl's stomach and began kissing and tasting her revealed skin.

She gave no reaction to his kisses, other than the steady rise and fall of her stomach as she gently breathed. Her eyes still wide and terrified seemed to show no recognition of his touch. This was very unusual. Even when given the toxin his subjects would still recognise his presence - however distorted and horrific it would become. But this girl seemed to be locked away in her own mind, unaware of the assault her body was about to receive. It was a boring reaction to his toxin, yet still peculiar and interesting. Crane's tongue dipped down, gliding across the girl's tanned skin as he pulled down her shorts. Her body would react to him, he vowed. Even if she was unaware of reality, her body would revert to basal stimulation. He spread the girl's legs and lowered his head.

David Moore had quieted sufficiently, and was instead groaning along the wall, no longer screaming. Crane hadn't counted on the strength of his toxin killing the professor. He'd given the same strength dose to Moore's daughter but she managed to survive. Crane scientifically regarded her survival as a result of her unique reaction to the drug, as well as a side-effect of her body's stimulated pleasure. Not that Crane expected the outcome of his experiments that night. He selfishly did what he wanted to do, uncaring of the consequences, despite calling his actions 'research'. He gave Moore a higher dose because he wanted to. He pleasured Moore's daughter because it pleasured him to do so.

With a smirk, Crane retracted a long, coated finger from Ada's warmth. He'd successfully managed to arouse the girl despite her mind's disassociation.

On the other side of the carpet, David Moore struggled to breathe as his body gave out. The professor passed away to the sounds of Crane's thrusts and grunts as he fucked the man's comatose daughter.


End file.
